


Lay Your Hands on Me

by Laineyvb131



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: F/M, Humor, Innuendo, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 14:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laineyvb131/pseuds/Laineyvb131
Summary: Based on a lilacmermaid tumblr prompt:  Elizabeth is extremely hoarse, and people at home and at work keep asking her if she’s feeling alright, but she couldn’t be better - the state of her voice is merely an indication of extremely good night with her husband.





	Lay Your Hands on Me

“That was amazing,” Elizabeth exclaimed, breathlessly, in the darkness of their bedroom. She lay her back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, arms over her head.

“Yes, it was,” agreed Henry, enthusiastically. He’d fallen face down next to her, his voice muffled by the comforter. Now he shifted into her side, nuzzling her neck, his arm sliding around her waist.

“I’m gonna be hurting tomorrow,” Elizabeth acknowledged with a sigh, as her eyes drifted closed. “I’m too old to pull all nighters like this.”

Henry raised his head slightly to look at her face. “But was it good for you?” he asked.

“Oh, so good, babe. Total flashbacks to when we were dating and could go all night. My ears are still ringing.” She yawned, tilting her head, and met his similarly satisfied gaze.

Henry grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. No pun intended.” He kissed her cheek, then dropped his head into the crook of her neck.

“You’re hot,” she complained, sliding his arm off her, pushing his body away. “Yes, that kinda hot,” she clarified, before he could comment. “But sweaty, hot, too.” She ran her hands through her hair, fingers tangling in the blonde tresses. “So am I. I need a shower, but I don’t want to move.”

“A shower can wait until morning,” Henry decided for them both. He hitched his forearm under Elizabeth’s armpit and hauled them both unceremoniously to the middle of the bed.

“That was so romantic,” Elizabeth snickered. She rolled to her side, twinning her fingers with Henry’s as she slid farther away from him 

“I try,” Henry replied. “I’ve run out of romance tonight, apparently.” He jerked a shoulder in resignation, glancing down at their intertwined hands, laying in the space she’d put between them.

“You did good with the romance,” she reassured him. “And with other things. I won’t forget tonight for quite awhile.” She squeezed his fingers and leaned in to kiss him.

“I do what I can,” he murmured against her lips.

“Then help me get off the rest of these clothes,” she requested, pushing herself to a sitting position. “I don’t even care about pajamas at this point.” Elizabeth tucked an arm inside her shirt, struggling out of her bra. She pulled her arm back out, then did the same with the other arm, sliding the lingerie through the armholes of her t-shirt.

Henry snagged a strap with his fingers. “Did I ever tell you how hot that is?” he wondered. 

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he confessed. His other hand fumbled with her zipper, and she tugged her jeans off, kicking them to the floor.

“You used to do that all the time in college.” Henry’s voice was muffled as he pulled off his own shirt. “Serious turn on.” He struggled out of his jeans as Elizabeth shoved the comforter on the floor, sliding under the sheet, clad only in her t-shirt and panties.

“Huh.”  She furrowed her brow, enjoying Henry’s impromptu strip tease. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t get much farther than that. You always had my shirt off pretty fast. So does it still work?”

“You bet it does,” Henry admitted. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“Later,” Elizabeth giggled, fluffing the pillows under her head. “You already wore me out.”  And with a sigh, she dropped into sleep.

* * *

 

The shrill ringing of her phone startled Elizabeth awake. She blinked into the darkness, struggling to untangle herself from Henry’s arms around her waist and the sheet around her legs. She flailed blindly for her phone and glasses, managing to knock both onto the floor. When she leaned out of bed to search, every muscle in her thighs screamed in protest.

The phone stopped ringing, silence almost startling. The respite was brief, the piercing noise resuming almost immediately.

“Babe, are you gonna get that?” Henry moaned, pulling the pillow over his head, nudging her shoulder.

“Ok, ok. Just hold on,” Elizabeth mumbled in his direction. She randomly swiped at the glowing blob on the floor, and hoping she hit the right buttons, laid the phone on the pillow near her ear.

Without preamble, Russell Jackson launched into a tirade. “Bess, it’s about time.” He was no less demanding before dawn.

“Good morning to you, too, Russell”, Elizabeth intended to respond. The noise she made sounded like a metal rake on gravel.

“What the hell, Bess. You sound horrible,” he exclaimed.

“Nothing like waking up to such accolades on a Monday morning,” Elizabeth replied. She squinted at the clock, a red blur until she donned her glasses. “At 5am,” she noted, her snarky tone lost in the raspiness of her voice. “Is the world imploding so you needed to call this early?” She frowned and attempted to clear her throat. Henry’s hand suddenly appeared over her shoulder offering a glass of water.

“Seriously, Bess, just stop talking,” Russell demanded. “Are you sick?” His question sounded more accusatory than concerned.

Elizabeth propped up on her elbow and drained the glass before attempting to speak again. “No, I feel fine.” Well, damnit, the water didn’t help. “And I can’t stop talking if you keep asking me questions.”

“Well, POTUS wants to see you”, Russell sighed, rather dramatically, “but I guess I should tell him we’ve had a change of plans.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Really,” Elizabeth reassured him. “Give me 20 minutes to get ready, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Try to find your voice in that time, would you?” Russell grumbled. “I don’t want to be translating Bess-speak all morning.”

Elizabeth stared at the screen as he ended the call abruptly. _Typical_ , she thought, rolling her eyes. She groaned and rolled to her back, tossing the phone back on the nightstand.

“A little too much activity last night, huh, babe?” Henry ventured, indicating the state of her voice, or lack thereof. 

“Apparently,” Elizabeth acknowledged with a snicker. “This is gonna be a fun day,” she continued, sarcastically. “I’ve already been summoned to the White House. Russell is preparing the Hazmat team for my arrival.”

“You should just take advantage of the assumption you’re sick and play hooky with me,” Henry suggested. He’d slid over to lay his head next to hers on the pillow, as much to be able to hear her voice as to be close to her.

“I’m tempted,” Elizabeth confessed, “but then I’d just feel guilty.”

“Yeah, but we’d have such fun doing it.  I’ll make sure you forget about the guilt.” Henry ran his fingers along the edge of her ribcage playfully.

“Ha. Back off, Professor.” She shoved his hand away, and sat up in bed. “You had your fun last night. And I really need a shower.”

Not to be deterred, Henry followed her movements and began nibbling on her earlobe. “How about if I join you?” he suggested.

Elizabeth croaked out her laughter, scrunching her shoulders to dislodge his mouth. “Can you make it quick? I’m on the clock now.”

Henry shifted his lips to her shoulder. “Do you really want me to?”

“Yes. No.” She reached back and smacked him on the arm with a gravelly giggle. “Now you’ve got me distracted.” Elizabeth set her feet on the floor and stood up, grabbing her vanity table for balance when her legs immediately gave out. “We’re gonna have to postpone that thought, babe. I don’t think my legs will hold me up for anything more than just a shower,” Elizabeth conceded, her voice unintentionally gruff.  She tentatively took one step, then another, limping her way to the bathroom as she stripped. Her hoarse laughter echoed back into the bedroom as she turned on the water.

* * *

 

Elizabeth rubbed her temples in frustration as the elevator ascended to the seventh floor of the State Department. She’d just spent nearly two hours simultaneously convincing the President she wasn’t dying and repeating every sentence, much to Russell Jackson’s consternation. She wanted coffee, donuts and quiet, and not necessarily in that order

The elevator door opened to her entire staff awaiting her arrival. _So much for the quiet_ , she thought. The exhilaration from her night with Henry rapidly dissipating, Elizabeth forced a smile on her face. “Good morning,” she ground out.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Nadine responded, dismay tingeing her voice. “You sound horrible.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m fine, really.” _At least no one could hear the exasperation in her voice_ , Elizabeth thought. _Although, maybe then they’d all get the point and drop the subject_.

“Are you sure?” Nadine pressed. “Blake can reschedule your appointments for today.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Elizabeth insisted. “Henry and I just had a late night. Blake may need to adjust my schedule, anyway; no one will be able to understand me.”

Elizabeth missed the surreptitious glances exchanged behind her back, but Nadine’s disapproving glare aimed at both Matt and Daisy indicated the Chief of Staff had noticed. Yet Nadine couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as the Secretary of State limped slightly down the hallway to the conference room.

“We can make our briefing short, ma’am,” Nadine assured her. “Daisy can handle whatever might need to be addressed verbally.”

Elizabeth nodded her agreement, saving them all the torture of a reply.  As the group reached the conference room, Blake already had the door open for her, pastries in hand.

“How was the concert, ma’am?” Blake inquired, as she grabbed a doughnut.

“Ah ha,” Elizabeth croaked. Blake cringed at her exclamation. Rolling her eyes at his reaction, Elizabeth continued, “I knew Henry had a co-conspirator. No way he set that up on his own.”

“I might have had a hand in the planning,” Blake admitted. “Sounds like you had a good time. Literally.”

“More than. I haven’t danced like that since college. These shoes are absolute torture today.” She indicated her usual four inch stilettos. “The mosh pit was epic.” Elizabeth gestured widely in emphasis.

Blake goggled at her comment, his jaw dropping.

Elizabeth barked out a laugh. “You look just like Frank and Matt did. You really think they’d have let me do that? They were freaking out enough at the concert already.” She paused. “I don’t even know what moshing is.”

Blake opened his mouth to explain, then stopped. That wasn't an idea he needed to put in her head.

“When we’re finished here, could you get me some hot tea, Blake?” Elizabeth requested. “I need to get rid of the sex line operator voice.”

Blake snorted, quickly muffling his response with a cough. “Of course, ma’am.”

Elizabeth tossed her briefcase to Blake and settled in her chair with the morning briefs and warm, sugary dough. _At least if she was reading, she wouldn’t need to talk._ Her staff obviously got the hint, and left her alone as they all busied themselves with the morning routine. Blake set a coffee cup next to her elbow and took his customary place in the corner.

After a few moments of quiet, the conference room filled with a low, discordant noise. Jay glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of Matt, Daisy and Nadine in turn. Blake’s expression remained curiously blank as the noise continued. Then they all simultaneously gawked at Elizabeth. The Secretary of State gyrated in her chair, bopping her head to the horrendous sound, which was coming from her mouth.

“Whoa, oh, we’re halfway there, whoa, oh, livin on praayyeer…”

Elizabeth suddenly realized she was singing out loud, and whipped her head up from reading into the shocked faces of her staff. “Oh, God, that was awful, sorry,” she shrugged, unapologetically.

Her statement was met with silence and averted gazes. Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, a concert, people,” she chided. “I’m not so old and uncool I can’t go to a concert.”

“So that’s why you don’t have a voice, ma’am?” Matt asked, hesitatingly. Daisy smacked his leg under the table. “We never said you weren’t cool,” she added, clumsily. Matt elbowed her in return.

“Yep. I sang with Jon all night. Front row seats are definitely a perk of this job.”

“Jon?” Jay ventured his own question. 

“Bon Jovi,” Elizabeth clarified. Daisy, Jay and Matt all stared at her blankly. Nadine, however, raised a slim eyebrow in recognition.

“You all are in the wrong generation,” Elizabeth shook her head in mock dismay. “The hair bands were the best.”

“If you say so, ma’am,” Jay was quick to placate her, even in his confusion.

“Is he still hot, ma’am?” Nadine wondered, a glint in her eye.

Elizabeth bit her lip and grinned. "Yuuuuuuppp." The word sounded much like nails on a chalkboard, but Nadine understood, and offered a smug smile of appreciation.

Matt laid his forehead on the table with a grunt, mumbling incoherently about two percent and too much information. Daisy suddenly found her iPad screen very intriguing and Jay quickly began sorting his paperwork. Elizabeth and Nadine exchanged an amused look at the obvious embarrassment of their junior staff. 

Only Blake remained typically unruffled. He cleared his throat at the awkward silence. “So should I schedule a nap into your afternoon ma’am?”

“No, that’s not necessary, Blake.  Just make sure that tea is hot, sweet and caffeinated. And find me some cough drops. Last thing I need to do is start World War Three because no one can understand me.”

As Blake rose from his seat to attend to her request, she added, “When you come back, can you show me how to find music online? You all need to hear what you’re missing.”


End file.
